


A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

by Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Menstruation, Periods, Tenderness, love and care, no pronouns are used but the reader menstruates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff
Summary: There’s one thing about Marcus that differentiates him from all your past boyfriend’s and that is that he’s an adult man who acts like an adult man. He’s mature, he’s responsible, he’s kind, he’s pragmatic and romantic. So when you’re bleeding everywhere, it surprises you, but really shouldn’t, that he’s calm, collected and just wants to take care of you.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> You can catch up with me on my writing tumblr @ writings-of-a-hufflepuff.tumblr.com

There was never a worse feeling than the slick wetness of blood pooling between your thighs at 2 in the morning. There was not a worse way to find yourself roused from sleep than to feel that sensation as blood slips down your inner thighs and pools beneath you soaking into your bed covers and clothes, this wake-up call was made exponentially worse when you realised Marcus had slept over and that you’d never even had to broach the topic of periods with him. No, no conversation had ever happened, you had no idea what his attitude was, but now you’d gone and bled over your bedding and partly on him, if the feeling of blood pooling near where he was curled around you was anything to go by. You hadn’t expected to have to deal with this with your boyfriend of four months, but you supposed it was inevitable, seeing as it happened every month. 

With a groan you push the duvet off of the two of you and sit up to assess the damage. Turning on the lamp, Marcus barely stirs as you take time to figure out what’s happened. There’s a noticeable red spot through your pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet underneath has a large wet spot too, looking to Marcus you feel embarrassment warm your cheeks at the blood stains on his pajama bottoms where he’d been curled up with you. It makes you want to cry because this is not how you wanted to wake up or spend your morning and you’ll have to wake Marcus who already has to get up early to leave for a case at 5am. He shouldn’t have to get up early and he shouldn’t have to have his pajama bottoms ruined by your blood. 

“Marcus...baby.” You shake his shoulders gently, wincing at the feeling of blood slipping down your legs as you sit up and how gross you feel in that moment. You can’t believe it came a whole week early, a whole week, how were you supposed to predict that? 

“Mmm, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, deeper than usual if that’s possible and under any other circumstance it would make you want to curl up into him as he talked to you. 

“I...I started my period and there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry for waking you, baby, but you need to get changed...I...I’m sorry.” It’s the embarrassment and upset in your voice that wakes him up fully, forcing him to sit up and take stock of the situation. You’re right there’s blood on him, but that’s okay, his pajamas are the ratty sort that he should have thrown out years ago anyway. You're covered in it and the bed needs changing too, but it’s okay, he thinks, this is okay, he can do that simply enough. He’s never minded changing the bed. The sheets are dark enough in colour that it shouldn’t stain too badly. He’s calculating the best course of action, what to do first before he even notices your downward gaze and trembling lip.

“Hey...honey,” He’s cupping your cheeks in his hands, large and warm. They bring your focus back onto him and not the blood that is drying on your legs or the aching that’s starting up in your lower back and abdomen. “It’s okay, a little blood never hurt anyone. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He keeps his voice soft for you, hands stroking a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

He’s wide awake now as he steps out of your bed and walks to your side, hands gripping your own as he walks you backwards to the bathroom. The bed can wait until he’s got you into the shower and got you some clothes and whatever else you need. You come first and you’re clearly uncomfortable as the blood flows steadily downwards with the force of gravity.

“I’m so embarrassed, Marcus…” You can’t wait to get clean, you feel horrible and uncomfortable. The lure of warm water has you picking up the pace to the bathroom even though your stomach cramps are getting worse and worse with each second. 

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. If it’s about the blood…” He gestures to the red stains on his sweatpants that you just know aren’t coming out with how they’ve already dried, “I’m an adult, a little blood doesn’t bother me and I needed to throw these away anyway.” 

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up as he begins to help you out of your stained pajamas. He’s certain he can get the blood out of them if he gets them in a tub to soak fast enough, the blood is fresh enough. He knows they’re your favourite pair and he’d hate for you to have to throw them away, “I don’t ever want you to be ashamed of your periods, sweetheart, it’s natural. It’s okay.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You think back to the last couple of boyfriends, how they just couldn’t even stomach you mentioning your period let alone the sight of blood or a sanitary towel or tampon. He’s so vastly different in the maturity with which he’s handling this that it confuses you that he’s not shying away from you right now. 

“Baby,” He holds your face in his hands again once you're free of your clothes, “I don’t know what sort of guys you were dating before, but they should have helped you with this, okay? I’m not setting a new standard, I'm just doing what I should.” It breaks his heart to think that you’re ashamed of your body, of something that you can’t help and that you somehow think he’s something special for doing what anyone should do for their partner when they’re bleeding for days on end. It’s the least you should expect from him. 

“Now, get your cute butt in that shower and I'll get these clothes in a bucket and change the bedding. Do you want one of my shirts to change into? Where do you keep your tampons? Pads?” Taps you on the butt, a light tap urging you under the warm spray before gathering your clothes. 

“Yes please, I think there’s one in my closet? The flannel that you left last time? I’ve got some stuff in here in the cupboard,” You think to your stash under the sink, grateful you weren’t running out of anything. 

“The flannel, got it, honey!” 

He leaves you to your shower and strips the bed off first before anything else. The blood spot is pretty large, but it’s still wet and once again he’s pretty sure the stain will come out, especially in the darker fabric. His pajama bottoms follow, they’re probably a lost cause but he figures he might as well try and clean them just in case. He putters to your kitchen and fills your mop bucket up with cold water and stain remover, leaving the laundry in it to soak before putting it anywhere near a washing machine.

The flannel is in your chest of drawers and he grabs it along with a pair of your underwear that he’s sure are one of your comfier pairs. You’re still under the stream of hot water when he comes in to place them on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

“Got some clothes for you, sweetheart.” He takes a moment to watch you. He’s just happy to see you relaxed, sure it’s early in the morning and he’s tired, but seeing you brighten, that’s worth it. He can sleep on the plane later, it’ll take a few hours to get from DC to New York where his case is and he doesn’t mind being tired if it means your day goes a little smoother. 

“Thank you, baby.” You sigh out in response, the warm water easing some of the pain in your body. The cramps never feel as bad under warm water and your back ache eases a little bit at least. 

“Do you have a spare set of bedding?” 

“Umm…” You have to think for a moment, what did you do with your old bedding, did you throw it out? No, you wouldn’t have, surely not. “Maybe? Check the cabinet in the hallway?” 

He finds it hidden in the back of the hallway cabinet, the bedding doesn’t match the current colour scheme of your room but he doesn’t think that matters much when you just need a clean, comfy bed to fall into. He has the bed made by the time you’re walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, his flannel over your shoulders. 

“Get into bed, honey.” Marcus urges you, opening up the blankets for you and sliding in besides you. 

You reach over and turn the light off, “I’m sorry I woke you up at 2am…”

“It’s okay, sweetie, you need anything else?” He asks as he wraps himself around you, arms tight around your waist, face pressed into your shoulder, dropping little kisses there. His beard tickles a little, he’s still got the thing, not that you mind. He’s warm and he smells like comfort and that’s all you can really ask for even while your uterus is having a go at you.

“Just hold me till I fall asleep?” 

“I think that can be arranged.” A leg slips between yours, toes pressed into the back of your calf and it’s like having your own living, breathing weighted blanket. He becomes a comforting weight at your back, a warmth that has your eyes drooping and you yawning into your pillow. 

* * *

The next time you wake up it’s to say goodbye to him at 5 in the morning. He demands you stay in bed, giving you a longer than necessary kiss on his way out and making sure the laundry is in the washing machine before he leaves. You miss him the moment you hear the front door shut, but allow yourself to nuzzle back into your covers and fall back asleep. The lethargy you always feel around your period hitting you like a truck already. 

Work for the next few days is a killer. Your back aches, your stomach keeps cramping so hard you want to bend yourself in half to relieve them. You’re constantly hungry, constantly tired, and everything your co-workers say gets on your nerves. Added to missing your boyfriend, who’s off trying to deal with another stupid art thief who couldn’t wait a few more weeks before deciding to steal a Picasso, you’re having a hell of a week and a hell of a period. You’re not sure you’ve had one this bad in a while actually. 

It’s a Wednesday evening when the door to your home opens and closes again, the sound of keys being thrown on the side and shoes being kicked off meeting your ears. You’re curled up on your sofa, a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach in a vain effort to relieve some of your discomfort. 

“Marcus?” You call out because it can only be Marcus, no one else has a key to your place. You’re a little confused because he always phones you when he’s on his way back from a case, but the rustling of bags and his deep voice calling down the corridor reassures you that maybe he just forgot, it’s certainly not a burglar. Unless, he has an evil doppelganger somewhere. 

“It’s me, honey!” He drops his bag by the door, he’ll deal with the dirty laundry later and follows the sound of your voice into the living room. You’re curled up amongst what looks like every blanket you own, mind numbing TV playing that you’re not even watching, your face is scrunched up in pain and you're clutching your stomach. This part of the reason he decided to forgo going back to his own place, he wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay, that and he really missed you.

He drops the shopping bags on the coffee table and crouches next to you, fingers pushing back strands of your hair and smoothing the harsh lines by your eyes as you wince. You’re warm to the touch and he hopes that’s normal for you and not a sign you’re getting sick on top of your period. 

“You okay?” 

“Just cramps. It’s okay...I’ll be okay., I’m just glad you’re back, I’ve missed you.” You ease into the soft feeling of fingers, the delicate little touches to your skin as rubs little circles into your temple and down your neck. You’ve missed this, missed him. You always miss him, but this period has hit you especially hard and you wanted him around more than ever.   
  


“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, but you grab his tie and pull him back down. Nipping at his bottom lip he opens his mouth to your tongue, hand cupping the back of your neck before you’re gasping in pain as another crump hits you. Marcus pulls back and presses his forehead to yours with a sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Would a bath help? I stopped at the store on my way over, got some of your favourite bubblebath and those baked things that you like.” 

“Have I told you lately how you’re the perfect boyfriend?” You ask pressing kisses over his cheeks before settling for brushing your nose against his. You’re not sure how he manages to make you feel better even when you’re in pain and hormonal, but like a magic cure he does. 

“Mmm.. I don’t think so?”

“Well, you’re the perfect boyfriend and I love you very much.” You press another kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth before pulling back and settling back into your nest of blankets. 

“I love you too, why don’t you stay here? I’ll go run that bath.” He reaches down to grab the bubblebath from the bag and tosses you a few bags of your favourite snacks to munch on while you wait. You decide then and there that anyone who ever gave him up was an absolute idiot who couldn’t see that they already had the crown jewels. Why would you ever want anyone else?

He’s never understood your fascination with burning hot bath water, but he makes it how you prefer it even if it’s a tad hot for his tastes. If he wasn’t so sore from his flight, he might have tried to carry you to the bath, but the last thing he wanted was to drop you when you weren’t feeling great, so instead he just moves your half eaten snacks to the coffee table and pulls you gently by the hands to your bathroom. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way he helps you undress, it’s something you love about Marcus, that he can put aside his libido to help you get undressed and into your bath. There’s no touches outside of the caring and gentle ones, no comments about your nudity, just him helping you get into the hot bath water. You sink into it like it’s the finest feather bed, watching him undress himself, before sliding in behind you. Legs on either side of yours, chest pressed to your back. 

Your tub is a little small for the two of you, so you can’t stretch out completely, but that’s fine because you’d take it being a little cramped and Marcus being there over being on your own. He helps you wash, careful with you at every step, gentle as he whispers how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you and tells you about his case and how they managed to catch the gang of thieves this time. 

He massages the back of your neck and shoulders as you lie against him, working on the knots that have started to form over the last few days. A pop in your neck has you sighing and you’re thankful for the press of his fingers over your spin and through the knots that have been causing you to lose sleep while he’s been gone. 

The two of you stay there until the water begins to get cool, Marcus helping you out of the tub and drying you down with a towel. He collects your clothes and helps you get dressed for bed even though you can put your things on yourself. It’s nice that you don’t have to, that he carefully slides your legs into your pajama bottoms and drags your favourite sleep shirt over your head before pressing two quick kisses to your lips and ushering you into bed. 

“Marcus, where are you going?” You ask when he leaves you there, hand grabbing his as he walks past you to the door to the rest of your home. You just want him wrapped around you right now and can’t understand why he’d leave you.

“I’m going to lock up, honey, and grab your blankets. I’ll be back.” He gives your hand a squeeze. He loves that you want him around, after all the times he’s been more invested than his partner, this time, this time it feels right. You don’t just tolerate him, you love him. You want him there and it makes every little thing he does for you infinitely more rewarding when he knows you appreciate him for everything. 

“Quickly?” You’re cute staring up at him with a pout and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to take longer than is strictly necessary when he knows you're waiting for him to come back to bed and curl up beside you.

“Quickly.” He leans over you placing a kiss to your nose before going to lock up. He makes sure all the windows are shut, the front door locked, the television off, all before grabbing the pile of blankets you’d left on the sofa to return to you.

He throws them around you, letting you grab a few to snuggle up with, before climbing in bed beside you, spooning you from behind. He takes a deep breath and feels his body relax with the familiar smell of your shampoo and the feeling of your warm skin against his cheek. He could spend the rest of his life looking after you, curling up with you after coming back from a case and he would die happy that way. He’d happily take care of you through every single period and every single bout of sickness, just as long as he gets to be with you. 

“You need anything?”

“No, everything I need is right here, baby.” You sigh back into his arms, twisting a leg through his as he rubs a hand over your stomach soothing away the lingering pains with gentle circles.


End file.
